


Monsieur Elliot Nicholas Salem

by rothalion



Category: Army Of Two (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1667864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rothalion/pseuds/rothalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot get an invite at a strange time from an unexpected admirer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monsieur Elliot Nicholas Salem

_ Monsieur Elliot Nicholas Salem _

_Chapter One_

_Fisticuffs and Flowers_

 

“Salem god damn it!”

“Rios what, come on, just shoot over me bro what the fuck, to hell with this crisscrossing bullshit!”

“What the fuck? What the fuck? The fuck is, if you don’t duck enough and cross like you should I’ll take off the back a your fucking head, Kermit, shit.” Rios screamed tearing his mask from his sweat dripping head. “There’s a reason we have SOP for this shit”

“In all these years have you ever taken off the back of my head, Rios? Fuck this son of a bitch jar head Yarborough, and his _newer, better_ forced entry SOP.”

“We gotta be speakin’ the same language Salem and right now that’s Yarborough, and there’s a few dozen guys watching, Salem and some civilian cops trying to learn this shit too. Salem just follow Yarborough’s SOP it’s there for…”

“Team Bird’s Eye, team Bird’s Eye, do it again children, and for the record this will be attempt number seven. That’d be número siete for you Spanish speakers, and that’s numéro sept for our French frogs, ah…номер семь for our Russian pals, and nummer sieben for Franz and his team. The rest of you fucks are fucked ‘cause I’m outta languages.”

Salem flicked both his middle fingers up towards Pedro in the control booth overlooking the training area before juking to the left just barely escaping Rios’ back hand.

“Salem!” Jake Yarborough hollered not for the first time that day.

“Sir!” He snapped back while proffering a two fingered salute at the big man moving rapidly toward them, before settling into a sarcastic attempt at attention.

Jake Yarborough, a six foot, four inch tall, 290 pound African American, ex-Marine, ex Force Recon operator, ex French Foreign Legion member, ex pretty much anything that could fire a weapon ex, and now SSC’s new trainer extroidannaire gave him a scathing glare and began screaming the instructions at him for the seventh time with every bit the force of the finest drill sergeant berating a recruit on his first day. It was all Salem could do not to laugh or note to the man just how pearly white his rather straight teeth were and how cool the little droplets of sweat beading on his shiny bald head looked. It was times such as this he wondered how he’d actually made it through Basic Training.

“Get set Bird’s Eye; the house will be reset in five mikes.” Pedro called down interrupting the big man’s tirade.

Lecture complete Yarborough stalked away to the safe line, and watched Salem and Rios set about readying themselves to run the live fire exercise again. The object of the Dynamic Assault drill was to gain forced entry into the two story dwelling, neutralize the bad guys, and extract the hostages. The problem was that Salem was being Salem, and didn’t feel like following SSC’s new trainer’s SOP. He wanted to do the Dynamic Assault drill the way he and Rios had been running it for years. So he was running it his way, and Rios, always the one to follow the rules, was running it Yarborough’s way, designed by the Marines in their SOTG or Strategic Operations and Training Group class. The end result being that as they cleared rooms Salem’s head kept getting in Rios’ eye line.

“Live in three-two-one execute, Bird’s Eye.”

Rios slammed the piston enhanced battering ram into the door, and bowled through after it with Salem on his heels. He snap fired his Deagle, and took out the first three targets as Salem ducked under him rolling to the left, and firing three short bursts with his Makarov at the fourth and fifth targets. Then, as Rios crashed through the first door on his right hitting three targets, Salem shoulder rolled into the first room on the left, and took out two more.

“Clear!”

“Clear here; move, Salem.”

Salem rolled back out into the dark, narrow hallway taking up a position at the right side, bottom of the stairs; while Rios slammed up against the left side wall and switched from his Deagle to his Spas-12. He nodded at Salem who’d reloaded, and together they crept up the narrow steps. At the first landing Salem ducked under Rios’ fire, and crossed stepped, in a crouch left foot over right with his back to the wall, up the remaining seven risers finally diving onto the top landing, and tossing a flash bang halfway down the eight meter long hallway. Once the Flash bang popped, Rios stormed up the steps took down the three Tangos in the hallway with two blasts of the Spas, then he moved on and kicking in the first door on the left fired two rounds killing those targets as well.    

“Clear! Move!”

Salem sprinted out ahead of the bigger man, kicked in the next door on the right hand side, and rolled into the black space while Rios watched their six. His mask showed four targets, and he fired four quick two round bursts taking out all in fair form then reloaded.

“Clear.” He hollered.

“Now we Yarborough Kermit, cross sides, go left.”

“Copy that.”

“Atta boy, Salem! Keep it going.”

“Fuck you, lard ass.”

They approached the next doors, and after a three count they each attempted to breach. Rios’ door caved in easily under his mass, and he cleared the room with three rapid shots fired from his hip. But Elliot, after four tries to take the barrier down, failed, and in the midst of the attempt he took fire. Rios regrouped, backtracking as he shoved rounds into the Spas, then slung it behind his back and grabbed the Deagle again. Then, from across the hallway he set down covering fire over Salem’s head through the barrier until the firing ceased. Salem slammed the door with his right shoulder again, grunting in pain, gained entry, and with two sets of three round bursts cleared it.

“On me Salem.” Rios snapped sliding the Spas back up for action.

Salem, to Rios’ great joy, obeyed, and settled in behind him his left hand resting on the big man’s back as they sidled in a half crouch forward to the next set of doors. These were double doors obviously opening up into a large area. They set up on either side of the entry and listened.

“Voices; four maybe five.” Salem hissed into the mic in his mask.

“Flash bang?”

Using the device here was optional, but Yarborough had intimated that he’d prefer that they used it.

“Nah, fuck Y- Boob, and his optional SOP fucking options.”

“Roger that. On your mark then, Salem; three count.”

“Roger, three-two-one…”

Rios kicked down the door then dove back to the left side of the frame after shoving Salem to the right side and away from the automatic gunfire that erupted.

“Flash Bang?” Rios asked again shrugging. “Man knows his shit, Salem. More like ten of the fuckers cached up in there.”

“That’s no fun.”

“Ok, again on three then, Salem. Just wait for it.”

They waited for a break, and when the fire ceased for reload Rios counted it down, and they moved forward again. Salem, as Y-Boob had instructed, switching sides with Rios crossing beneath his aim to the left side of the door before pushing straight into the room. Rios rolled in right behind him, and fired off multiple rounds at the targets as Salem used the Spas’ broad cover to tag and neutralize the six remaining Tangos with accurate head shots.

“Clear Tyse, reloading.”

“Roger.”

The pair rolled back out into the hallway, and cautiously, Yarboroughing the space as the drill SOP required, approached the final door.

Rios reloaded the Spas, lifted up his mask, took a breath and looked over at Salem.

“Mask up so we don’t freak the good guys out! And watch your fire Salem; remember the hostages are in this one.”

“Flash Bang?” Salem asked once he’d the settled his mask on top of his head, smiling broadly his hazel eyes twinkling with mischief.

Rios, despite the seriousness of the exercise, cracked up laughing. It was the deep baritone laugh that Salem loved, and hearing it just egged the younger man on. He’d do anything to hear Rios laugh like that, discipline be damned.

“God Elliot it’d almost be worth it just to see the look on the fucker’s face.”

“Roger that Tyse. You breach, I’ll target. Three-two-one…”

Rios shouldered the door, and after it crashed inward stepped back so Salem could target the final Tangos. Instead the younger man leaned around the corner, tossed the Flash Bang, and ducked back out slapping his hands over his ears.

“Kidding! I was kidding, Salem!” Rios screeched after the grenade detonated.

“You go I’m laughing too god damned hard to shoot straight. You should have seen the look on _your_ face Tyse. It was just fucking golden.”

“Just move your stupid ass, Salem! Fuck an a!”

As ordered Salem dashed into the room, tagged the three tangos, and squeezed off three perfect head shots as Rios barged in and covered the hostages. A gong sounded and the pair stood down.

“Bird’s Eye secure your weapons, return to the start line, and prepare to execute the exercise again. I repeat secure arms, return to the start line and prepare to execute the exercise again. You can’t F.B. the objective Fifty.” Pedro ordered not quite able to stifle his own laughter.

In the end the bosses, Richard Dalton, Alice Murray and Pedro, decided between them that team Bird’s Eye did not need to run the drill again. They convinced Yarborough that the pair was proficient enough to run it properly, and that nothing he said or threatened would get Salem to do it his way. After all Salem was Salem, and there was nothing anyone including Yarborough could do to change it. It was obvious Salem knew the drill, but had thrown it intentionally. They ordered pair to sit in the bleachers with the rest of the class, and observe the remaining teams.

Several hours later after sitting in SSC’s auditorium, and watching film of each other’s work while Yarborough and his staff critiqued it the men were dismissed, and sent to the showers. SSC had not run the weekend long clinic and drills only to be instructional but also as a means of recruitment. The PMC had invited several law enforcement agencies to send their best men to train with the so called _high end operators_ , and part of that drill was to show off the company’s creature comforts. The locker rooms and training areas built to accommodate several hundred men in various sections were among them. For the weekend drill the forty participants were all sharing locker room and fitness area Alpha and the guests were able to see firsthand the antics of some of the SSC crew, chief among them team Bird’s Eye.

“Fifty, you sure showed Y-Boob you silly fuck. Only you can get away that kind a shit, you know that.” Heckler said ruffling Salem’s sweat soaked, near shoulder length hair as he walked behind him toward the shower clad only in a towel.

Salem looked up grinning from where he sat undressing on the bench in front of his locker, shirtless, and bent over taking off his boots.

“It’s why Heck? Let me hear it, come on now, you guys know the drill. Tell ‘em… Because Salem is what…he’s da bomb. He might be a little ass bitch but he is da bomb.”

The group started laughing, and Salem reveled in the attention. Despite Rios having to help him with the door breach, and the Flash Bang debacle they’d scored a faster, more accurate result with the least amount of rounds fired than any of the other teams and they all knew that it burned Yarborough’s ass.

“Yo Elliot, remember that time you Flash Banged yourself over in the fucking Congo? You were da bomb for real that day.”

“Fuck you Rios. That wasn’t my fault.” He squeaked defensively. “The fucking thing hung up on a tread from my glove, which, if you recall, I shredded untangling your fat ass from that razor wire. Note to you SWAT coppers; do not use gloves that get torn. Christ the damned thing ally-ooped ten feet straight up, and only went like three and a half feet away; I couldn’t hear shit for the rest of the op. God damned good thing I got my eyes covered.”

Giddy threw his sweaty shirt at Salem who batted it away, and threw a boot at the older man.

“Fifty you don’t hear shit period. If you did you and Tyson wouldn’t have had to run the drill eight fucking times.”

“Seven Giddy, seven,” he crowed, “and if I’d a wanted to I’d a nailed the first time. I just don’t need some jar head goof ball micro-managing Rios and me. That shit man; that shit _will_ get you killed.”

“What the fuck do have against Marines, boy?”

The room went silent at the sound of the deep, confrontational southern drawl, and when Salem looked toward the door he saw Yarborough and his four man staff standing there duffle bags in hand coming in to take their showers. Rios had a quick flashback to Somalia, and the night Vasily Tyannikov had beaten Salem into the ground. The difference was that this time whether Salem was right or wrong, the team would not stand by, and watch their brother take a beating.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Y-Boob. I don’t like any-fuckin’-body.” Salem snarled.

“What did you call me?”

Salem snorted through his trademark grin, kicked off his remaining left boot, stood up from the crowded bench then stepped over it and faced Yarborough. The rest of the guys also stood or took up positions placing them at the ready should Salem need back up. Which from the sound of his voice, it was two octaves lower than normal, meant he was planning to either to jump Yarborough, or incite the big man into jumping him. All fault aside, Rios and the guys were far too familiar with Salem’s temper and lack of restraint. There was going to be a brawl. Several of the visiting men and SSC operators not on Rios’ team backed away from the two groups.

“What, you short throw a Flash Bang too Bub? First of all Y-Boob, ooh that’s almost Clyde-like, that ringing in your ears, and they are big fucking ears, or is it that you have a teeny tiny Marine head so that it can fit in a jar? That ringing’s your mama calling to tell you to scoot on home while you still have an ass to scoot with. But if it’s drowning out my voice, I’ll recap for you. I called you Y-Boob. And second of all Y-Boob, you must be fucking blind too because I damn sure do not see any _boys_ around here.”

“Bub, Y-Boob…Are you for fucking real?” Yarborough snapped incredulously.

“Oh yea he’s for real, Yarborough.” Giddy threw in.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Y-Boob that’s clever, and what the fuck do they call you, you little assed bitch?”

“Why is always that? Why do they all look at my ass Tyse? Why?”

“Don’t know Salem; it’s a nice ass and all, but fuck they do all always seem to focus on it. Go figure, maybe Mr. Y-Boo…”

“All of you are crazy.” Yarborough snapped. “I may be Y-Boob, but Sprout! Hah! _Sprout_ … one half of the _Bird’s Eye_ team. Now that’s fucking lame _boy_.”

“A jar head, and stupid too, some guys just can’t catch a break. I’m Green Giant, shit for brains,” Salem corrected Yarborough, tilting his head toward Rios, “He’s Sprout, and Sprout does not like it when folks fuck with me.”

“No Sprout does not; so why don’t you and your buddies just back on out, and use Bravo locker room down the hall. That way we can all have full mouths of teeth to eat our wonderful SSC provided chow later on."

“Yea, and when you go down the hall, Y-Boob, remember to do that whole crissy-crossy thingy, you know…” Salem finished by waving his arms back and forth in front of himself in a crossing pattern.

“Back away from you, you little fucker! I don’t think so!”

“Y. you want me to take the little bitch out for you. No need for you to fuck with him.”

No Winslet, I got this.”

“Sure thing boss.”

At that Yarborough’s guys took a few steps back as did Rios and the team leaving Salem and Yarborough alone in the center of the locker room.

Jake Yarborough was forty-nine years old, a hard cased operator, and had seen his share of craziness in all corners of the world fighting in nearly every conflict that had taken place over the past two decades. He’d had his share of fights, he’d killed his fair share of very nasty men, and he’d learned long ago to never under estimate his enemy. Conversely he just couldn’t seem to be able to wrap his head around Elliot Salem. The man was half his age, and at just under five foot eleven and 165 pounds barely half his size. Yet he seemed to have absolutely no fear of him. That, Yarborough knew from experience, was a very dangerous trait. No fear, not to be confused with over confidence, often meant your opponent also felt they had nothing to lose, and men with nothing to lose will fight to the death against extraordinary odds often beating a far more able opponent. All of this set off warning bells in Yarborough’s mind. While Salem had noted that the big man, Sprout/Rios would have his back he’d made no effort to pass off his battle onto the big man’s shoulders. Rios just stood watching the burgeoning confrontation with the same calm sense of control that Salem had. It was un-nerving.

Finally he dropped the duffle bag, and sauntered forward until he was a meter, for him within arms’ reach, from Salem. Salem settled onto the balls of his bare feet and dropped down slightly into a ready stance. That made Yarborough chuckle.

“Who’re you kidding boy. Just back off ok, take your shower, and live to see another day. You are way out of your league here. And that…that shit only works in the…”

He felt Salem’s front snap kick to his crotch before he realized the smaller man was or even had moved. He stumbled back three paces, and from a slightly hunched up posture glowered upwards at Elliot. Now that was damned good he had to admit. The boy hadn’t telegraphed the well placed kick at all. It was just a lightning fast, accurate strike; more to make a point, Yarborough felt, then to actually hurt him. It was painful but not nearly what he knew it could have been. Despite nearly twenty years of Krav Maga training he’d need to be careful with Salem. Lesson learned he straightened up, and began to circle to his right while closing up the distance between them.

Salem rotated with him still calm, and still light and ready to respond to Yarborough’s moves. Finally Yarborough struck out very rapidly; not with anything fancy but with a simple three punch combination. Salem easily blocked the two left jabs and the right cross, actually managing to hook Yarborough’s right wrist in a Mantis hook, closing off his center, and allowing him to execute a Seoi Nage again surprising Yarborough. The bigger man leapt up from the hard tile floor and grinned wickedly at him.

“Now you fucked up, boy. You should have…”

Elliot moved in again this time feinting with a right jab at Yarborough’s head. The man ducked away from it but before he could counter, Salem had spun away, and hooked his left leg behind the knee. Again Yarborough hit the floor hard, and Salem did follow through this time launching a powerful right heel strike that connected with the downed mans’ left cheek splitting it, and driving his head into the floor.

Salem backed off making note of the now slick area where Yarborough’s blood was. Yarborough stood, shook off the shock of the blows, and drove in low at Salem’s legs to try and take him down. Salem jumped back just barely escaping Yarborough’s grasp, and grabbed him in a headlock. He tried to maneuver around to get him in a choke hold but Yarborough was stronger and twisted free, taking Salem down with a well-placed, vicious sweep to his left leg. Salem hit the floor hard on his right shoulder, and the pain stunned him. That brief second of hesitation cost him, and Yarborough capitalized on it; before Salem could get to his feet he dropped down, straddled the smaller man and snapped off a brutal, blazingly fast series of punches to Salem’s head and chest.

Salem turned his head away, and tried to block the blows with his forearms to no avail. Finally just as the coppery flavored blood from his split lips and crushed nose began trickling down his throat gagging him, and blackness began to edge out his vision he crunched inward bringing his legs up hooking them around Yarborough’s thick neck under his chin, from behind, and crossed his feet. The move surprised the bigger man, and Salem, sensing his shock locked his feet tightly together, shot his legs back down while forcibly sitting back up. Yarborough doubled over backwards on his knees, and found Salem now riding high upon his broad chest.

Elliot knew that he couldn’t win a prolonged ground battle with Yarborough, he just wasn’t big enough. He needed to either choke him out right then very quickly without letting the man regain his feet, or let him up, back off and re-group. His left eye was swollen shut; the other right behind it, and his nose was either broken or clogged with blood; so he knew he needed to end things soon.

Yarborough tried to sit up, and dislodge Salem but as he did, Salem reared back, and then forward head butting him in the nose with his forehead. Once again Salem’s unorthodox move surprised Yarborough. His nose broke with a sickly cracking sound, and blood splattered both men. Seeing his opportunity Salem drove in again with his forehead this time though he had a hand on each side of Yarborough’s head, and at the same time he powered in with his forehead he pulled Yarborough’s forward with his hands doubling the force of the blow. He followed that with right and left elbow strikes to Yarborough’s jaw and a knife hand to his throat. Yarborough gagged and gasped for breath; he was weakening, and Salem knew he was close. Despite knowing better he tried double chops to Yarborough’s carotids in hopes of knocking him out. If the blows did not land forcibly enough, and exactly at the same time he would fail. He failed, and the foolish mistake allowed Yarborough a chance to finally twist partially free. As he twisted he landed a powerful roundhouse to the left side of Salem’s head again dazing him.

Salem was rolled back just enough by the blow that Yarborough could begin to free his legs. Then, before he could react Yarborough capitalized on the one weakness he’d seen in the younger man, Salem’s right shoulder. He’d heard him grunt during the failed door breach. As Salem fell away Yarborough snatched his right arm, grasping his hand in his, and twisting while he dragged it forward locking it across his chest and under his own right arm. Then, he drove himself toward Salem’s head and to his right, wrenching the captured arm brutally palm inwards then up and with all his weight behind it back over Salem’s head. The dislocation was audible, and Salem’s scream did little to cover it up. The pain kicked his adrenalin in, and he did what he’d hoped would not be necessary.

Twisting his torso beneath Yarborough’s weight, he reached down with his left hand, and lifted his right leg as far as possible, while Yarborough’s huge fists rained blows upon his head. They were wicked right and left crosses driving him closer to unconsciousness. Finally the tips of his fingers found their mark, and Salem snatched his Randall fixed blade from its sheath on the side of his right leg. He didn’t want to kill the man, but he was not going to be killed either.

Yarborough, blinded by rage, pummeled Salem’s unprotected head mercilessly against the tile floor failed to notice the last ditch effort. Salem, blinded too, but by pain, nausea and encroaching unconsciousness summoned the last of his strength and will power, and clutching the eight inch blade in his blood slick left fist reached upwards, and snicked it across the back of Yarborough’s neck at the base of his skull. The three inch long, eighth inch deep cut followed by the tip pressing into his spine stopped Jake Yarborough cold. Against all odds Salem had him dead to rights. He’d recalled the shoulder, but forgotten about the knife. All the smaller man had to do is drive the weapon home, and he would die instantly.

Yarborough immediately sat up, and staggered away from him his arms raised in defeat. Salem scooted himself backwards across the tile floor several feet holding the blade outward for protection should Yarborough come at him again. Finally he tucked his legs under, and stood shakily up. His right arm hung loosely from the socket, and he could barely see or breath; both of his eyes were now nearly swollen shut, and his nose broken. He spat out a mouth full of blood, and staggered backwards toward the benches.

It was over. Yarborough’s men stepped in, and dragged him stumbling away, and Rios rushed to Salem who’d collapsed onto the bench.

Rios laid Salem down gently, and started to triage his injuries while Giddy and Heckler went after a med kit. Some of the other SSC men went to Yarborough’s men, and provided them with the same supplies.

“Give me the knife Salem it’s over.”

“No, mine. Get me up; Need to shower.”

“Stay down Kermit. After we patch you up you can shower. Now hand the Randall over. I got your back if those fuckers decide to play anymore.”

“Fine, but just get me in the fucking shower. The cold water will fix me up quick. Don’t want to black out.”

“Your shoulder’s out again Salem, let’s get that fixed first.”

Rios sat him up, grasped his arm the way the docs taught him to, and once Salem was ready he yanked it hard and felt it settle back in to place.

“No matter how many time we do that it still sucks, Tyse.” He moaned.

“Ok, Fifty lay back down.”

“He just wants to shower, Giddy. I’ll go with him and make sure he doesn’t fall down, gonna need to guide him his eyes are pretty much shut.”

Giddy gently pried at Salem’s eyes, and shook his head.

“Yea, but the cool water will knock the swelling down, at least on the right one. Sure Fifty, go get cleaned up. I don’t see anything that’s gonna need stitching this time.”

Rios hefted him up and as they turned to walk away the locker room door opened up.

“Monsieur, Elliot Nicholas Salem?”

Everyone turned surprised at the strange address. The group's shock increased when they saw a tall, handsome man dressed in an immaculate black tuxedo carrying a large bouquet of colorful flowers in white gloved hands. He called Salem’s name again, then coughed nervously when he realized he was surrounded by half naked men three times his size.

“Yarborough! That sorry fucker! He sent me flowers, like for my funeral, now that’s pretty fucking arrogant. Gimme back my Randall, I’m gonna gut that arrogant mother fucker from his balls to his chin!”

“I’m thinking it’s not Yarborough, Ellie; relax. Here sir, he’s Elliot Nicholas Salem.” Rios offered politely.

The man walked over to them hesitantly, and after studying Elliot’s battered face for a moment held out the huge bouquet. Giddy took it, then opened, and handed Rios the large, bright red, heart shaped card. Rios held it in his left hand still supporting Salem with his right, and read it aloud in a firm voice since Salem still couldn’t see well.

Monsieur Elliot Nicholas Salem

Mademoiselle Nala Brittany-Ann Rios

Formally Requests Your Delightful Presence

Wednesday, February Fourteenth 2006

For An Evening of Dinner and Dancing at

**_ L'Escargot D'or _ **

Nine P.M.

R.S.V.P. with the courier

 

“Seriously?” Salem mumbled through his battered lips choking back tears. “I… got flowers, and a…and a card for Valen…Valentine’s Day. Seriously it’s for me, Tyse.”

“Seriously Ellie, it’s just poor timing.” Rios replied softly saddened that the surprise had arrived after such a miserable event. It always seemed as though Salem couldn’t catch a break, and just have something truly nice happen to him. He needed to make sure that Nala didn’t find out.

“Wow,” He said hoping his voice was at best halfway steady. “Never ever had a Valentine’s date before. Wow… sure, tell her Tyse, tell her,Mademoiselle Nala, sure of course, that I’d be…I’d be…honored. Damn it Tyse, I…I can’t-cry-here. Get me the fuck into the shower.”

Rios wrapped him up in a tight brief embrace. “I’ve got you Ellie just relax.” and then lifting him carefully up headed for the showers.

Across the room Yarborough watched the scene unfold, and shook his head. If he’d been confused by Elliot Salem earlier he was completely baffled now. It would seem that his stay at SSC was going to prove to be an interesting one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

__

 


End file.
